


every breath that comes before

by interestobscura



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: F/F, but maybe, maybe they are good at taking care of each other, theyre so bad at taking care of themselves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:33:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25240066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/interestobscura/pseuds/interestobscura
Summary: “Adora,” Catra interrupts. “Come to bed, please.”Adora softens. She drops the stack and pads over to Catra, absently pulling her hair tie out along the way, the golden strands falling and settling gently over the slope of her shoulders. She scoots gracelessly into the spot left out for her, the bed frame squeaking under her restless shuffling before Catra simply throws a heavy arm around her midriff and pulls her close, holding her still. In this position she can feel Adora’s chest rising and falling to the rhythm of her breathing, and the presence of it is more comforting than all the luxurious quilts and pillows in Bright Moon combined. Catra’s eyes slip shut.When they open again, Adora is gone.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 222





	every breath that comes before

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote basically 99% of this fic in early june and then ran out of steam. it then sat in my folder for weeks just taunting me while i wrestled with my idiot brain to just,,, finish that ONE SCENE COME ON
> 
> anyway, title from this will end by the oh hellos, which one of many catradora songs

There’s a lot to get used to in Bright Moon.

Catra finds herself latching onto the small things. The countless tiny mercies and comforts she’s now offered: a soft bed, good food, privacy. Things that she never noticed she even lacked until it was presented to her. Even just the knowledge that there was no chance of unwanted surveillance by authority figures in Bright Moon made the castle, irritatingly pink and ostentatious as it was, miles better than even her fondest corners in the Fright Zone. It represented an absence - of tense shoulders, of the split second of instinctual worry, of the constant looking over one’s shoulder. It’s peace.

It’s also intensely unfamiliar.

Adora seems to notice the hesitation that creeps in whenever she finds herself focusing too much on these things, on the illogical yet prevalent fear that this is all a dream, that Catra cannot,  _ should not _ , partake in these comforts because it will all inevitably be ripped away. 

Adora, perceptive as always when it comes to Catra's needs, says nothing. Instead she chooses to link their pinkies together, or offers Catra a smile, or simply gives her space - the option to move away. It’s the latter, the unconditional agency, that moves Catra the most. After all these years, they are finally learning each other’s hurts, mapping out the places where the wounds are still tender, and moving to soothe instead of inflame. 

Of course, there’s also Melog, who although gets distracted easily by the sights and sounds of a new, magic-infused Etheria, rarely leaves her side, seemingly picking up and echoing her wariness. 

It’s not a bad place to be, all things considered.

Sleep, however, is the one thing Catra didn’t take long to get used to.

The beds here are just so fucking soft, and Catra has never been so thankful for the lack of a 6 a.m. call time because she isn’t sure she’d be able to get up regardless. Even the threat of Shadow Weaver’s punishments probably couldn’t make her relinquish this bed in the morning.

“Is this heaven?” groans Catra as she sinks into the mattress, feels it actually  _ bend _ under her weight. Bend! Catra never thought beds could actually feel so soft. It’s a miracle rivalling She-Ra herself.

Adora laughs freely, throwing her head back and snorting in that undignified way that tells Catra she’s genuinely happy. Catra’s ear flicks lazily towards the sound, a content purr threatening to rumble from deep inside her chest. She watches with hooded eyes as Adora approaches the nook where she’s already got herself comfortably settled in, head nestled in the crook of her arms and legs tucked in under her chest. Her tail wraps around Adora’s wrist as soon as she’s close enough, gently urging her in. 

“Having fun?” Adora slides in easily next to her, and this time Catra doesn’t hold back. A loud purr escapes her chest as Catra feels her eyelids start to droop, mere seconds after her head hit the soft pillows. Adora’s warmth, the mere presence of her, sends a wave of peace and contentment unlike anything Catra has ever felt before. It feels  _ easy _ for her to slip into unconsciousness, relishing in the certainty that that warm bubble of safety and love will follow her into sleep.

“Tons. You should come join me,” Catra mumbles tiredly. There’s much to do, and she’s seen enough destruction (and  _ caused _ enough destruction) to know that the days after the war will be just as taxing, if not more. But they’ve just returned from delivering the failsafe of a massive, planet-wide superweapon and saved the entire universe from getting blown up, so Catra figures they’ve earned at least one night of rest. The two of them can worry about reconstruction and reparations later, together. 

“I can’t,” Adora says regretfully. “I have to help Glimmer prepare for the celebratory yay-we-just-saved-the-world feast. She’ll kill me if I left her to deal with it alone.”

“Hmph,” Catra grumbles, but she’s already half asleep. The last thing she feels is a light kiss being pressed to her forehead, before the rest of the world is plunged into peaceful darkness. 

\---

The next day is a whirlwind of activity. Adora and Glimmer, along with most of the princess alliance, had spent the night turning the untended gardens outside Bright Moon castle into a full-on festival, replete with tents decorated with strings of flowers, multi-coloured banners and tables mounted with all the food they managed to scrounge up from the castle kitchens. In the center of it all, a huge bonfire roars, lighting up the space with dim, dream-like light.  


The preparations finish just after sunset, and slowly people start trickling in: first the refugees housed in the nearby villages, then those from further north, then more and more, culminating in a ragtag crowd, some from Salineas, some from the Ice Kingdom, and even some sporting the tell-tale uniforms emblazoned with the Horde insignia. The atmosphere remains festive despite previous decades of animosity, the crush of people seeming to put aside their differences for one night, choosing to celebrate the continued survival of the entire planet over reigniting old feuds. 

Catra even catches a glimpse of Double Trouble in the mix, holding court over a group of younger attendees, their arms waving through the air as they dramatically recount their exploits, shifting intermittently into various characters to act out their one person show. 

DT catches sight of her and winks, shifting back to their original form before blowing her a kiss. Catra rolls her eyes, but flashes them a quick smile before going to find Adora. She doesn’t resent DT for the things they said, but that wound is still a little too fresh to poke at. She’d rather enjoy tonight without having to deal with her baggage with an ex-almost-something. 

She finds Adora and hangs around the buffet, watching her girlfriend stuff her face with food. Adora enthusiastically picks out her favorites, thrusting them in Catra’s face incessantly until she takes a bite and waiting excitedly for her reaction. It’s insufferably cute, and Catra humors her most of the time, making a show of chewing and nodding agreeably. Bow and Glimmer take turns checking in, but they quickly get pulled away by friends and admirers alike.

It doesn’t escape Catra’s attention that Adora has a substantial amount of moon-eyed followers herself, but Adora only pauses for a few quick exchanges, never really taking her attention off Catra for more than a couple of seconds. Catra likes to think that she’s outgrown her possessive streak by now, but she’s gratified by the attention nonetheless. 

Eventually they end up seated around the bonfire with a few other princesses, taking a reprieve from the food and the pleasantries. Adora looks ethereal, her cheeks flushed with drink and hair glowing in the firelight. Catra can hardly believe that they’ve managed to reach this point, that after everything she’s done Adora still choose her, and continues to choose her. There’s still a surreal quality to everything, the dim lights and the roar of the crowd making her feel lightheaded in a good way. She leans her head into the crook of Adora's shoulder and allows herself to enjoy the moment, half listening to the circle of princesses commiserate their final battles.  


“And then I slammed my fist into the machine and activated Entrapta’s device!” Bow exclaimed. 

“I fell to my knees!” Scorpia picks up, matching Bow’s energy beat for beat. “I could finally feel emotions again! So I picked Bow up and carried him to Prime’s ship, but before we got there: boom!” Scorpia mimics an explosion with her claws. 

“Electricity! Green light everywhere! Chaos!”

“The ground splitting beneath our very feet!”

“Clones surrounding us! Prime’s voice booming over the skies!”

“At last,” Bow stands, putting on an exaggerated frown and spreading his arms wide. “There. Will be. Peace!”

The princesses double over laughing, each chiming in with their own humiliating versions of Horde Prime’s final speech. It’s nice to be able to laugh at it now, mere days after the invasion, when everything had seemed so hopeless. It’s a reminder that they all survived, a testament to their strength as a unit.

“I really thought we were gonna go down fighting,” Glimmer says after the giggles died down. “When the earth came apart. I thought you guys had died down there.”

Adora takes Glimmer’s hand. “It was touch and go for a bit,” she admits.

“What even happened down there?” Perfuma wonders.

Catra shoots Adora a smirk, and the blush that colors her girlfriend’s cheeks is too much to leave alone.  


“Oh, nothing much.” Catra’s shit-eating grin belies her casual air. “Fought a giant monster, nearly got killed, carried the failsafe to the Heart, blah blah blah.”

Catra slouches heavily into Adora’s chest, splaying out across her lap, her mismatched eyes gleaming with a familiar menace. Adora’s cheeks flare even brighter, visible even through the dull flickering camplight. 

“Adora finally got the balls to kiss me,” Catra’s voice dips even lower, her tail trailing up Adora’s back, unseen to the rest of those around the campfire. Adora’s breath hitches, and Catra does nothing to hide the heady rush of pleasure she gets from knowing just how much she affects the powerful She-Ra. The rest of the party fades away, leaving only the two of them locked in a heated staring match, a dance only they know the rules to, surrounded by the all-too-familiar push and pull that guides every breath, every movement. The intensity between them is tangible, the princesses watching hardly daring to breathe.

“...and then she transformed and saved the world. The end.” Catra retreats abruptly, settling back in her seat with all the nonchalance she can muster. 

The look on Adora’s face is hilarious.

Glimmer guffaws, and that’s all it takes for the whole group to dissolve back into uproarious laughter. Catra sits smugly as Adora tries to recover, unrepentant in the face of her glare. 

“Unbelievable,” Adora huffs, but she can’t stop the smile that curls around the edges of her mouth. Catra really likes that mouth. 

After a few more hours of talking and laughing, she finally manages to drag Adora away from the festivities and into the castle, the two of them creeping through empty Bright Moon halls, laughing and whispering, trying and failing to be sneaky. It’s like being Horde cadets all over again, but instead of corporal punishment, all they get is funny looks whenever their caught. 

They end up in Adora’s room, Catra stumbling over a book carelessly displaced on the floor, Adora stubbing her toe on the foot of a table and cursing loudly before fumbling for the lights. The room is in utter disarray, maps and weapons scattered haphazardly throughout, looking every bit as frantically abandoned as it was before the war ended.

Catra immediately sprawls on the bed, starfishing out. Humming in contentment, she looks up to watch Adora scramble to pick up papers and adjust furniture, red-faced.

“Sorry, I- I haven’t been here in a while, and I swear it’s not usually this messy, I mean that’s sort of a lie, but you know how it is when you’re having a strategizing session-”

“Adora,” Catra interrupts. “Come to bed, please.”

Adora softens. She drops the stack and pads over to Catra, absently pulling her hair tie out along the way. Catra watches the golden strands fall and settle gently over the slope of her shoulders. Another rare privilege she’s missed in the Horde. 

Adora scoots gracelessly into the spot left out for her, the bed frame squeaking under her restless shuffling before Catra simply throws a heavy arm around her midriff and pulls her close, holding her still. In this position she can feel Adora’s chest rising and falling to the rhythm of her breathing, and the presence of it is more comforting than all the luxurious quilts and pillows in Bright Moon combined. 

Eventually Adora relaxes, her initial stiffness in the face of such casual contact with Catra (and probably her unfamiliarity of the concept of  _ relaxation _ in general) giving way to soft acceptance. They find an instinctual rhythm, Catra’s body naturally curving against Adora’s back, her arm finding a home against the warm muscle of her stomach, knees slotting together like puzzle pieces. Catra’s eyes slip shut.

When they open again, Adora is gone.

\---

She finds Adora out on one of the crumbling balconies of castle Bright Moon, in one of the more damaged sections of the building. The castle hadn’t been the main target of Prime’s destruction, but it hadn’t escaped unscathed, either. From what Catra pieced together, once Bright Moon was abandoned, Horde clones had stormed the place, collecting items that caught Prime’s fancy and destroying others. 

It doesn’t escape Catra’s notice that the parts of the castle that sustained the heaviest damage were those that symbolized Etherian power, with the throne room being almost completely unrecognizable, while the upper suite where Glimmer’s mother, Angella, had previously slept being ruthlessly ransacked and violated. Adora was currently in said room, trying her damndest to patch the rent apart railings together, her She-Ra form groaning in effort as the metal slowly bends together under sheer force. The muscles in her arms shake with effort, sweat gleaming in the soft morning sun. 

Catra can’t help where her eyes are drawn. 

Shaking off the sudden heat in her cheeks, she pads silently over to Adora, waiting until she releases the metal to jump right on top of her back. 

Adora shrieks in surprise, and Catra panics as a hand clamps over the scruff of her neck and she feels her entire body be pulled up and forward, scrabbling with both hands and feet to grasp Adora’s arm as she’s unceremoniously dangled over the balcony. “Holy shit!”

“Catra?” Adora yelps and immediately pulls her girlfriend back in, cradling her closely to her rapidly thundering chest. “God, I’m so sorry, you scared the- you scared me!”

“Hey, Adora,” Catra smirks up from where she’s being held, her voice breathy with adrenaline. “We really gotta stop meeting like this.” Adora huffs and moves to drop her, laughing when Catra screeches in protest.

Catra stands and dusts herself off, sniffing disdainfully. “What’re you doing at this hour anyway, Adora? I woke up and the bed was cold. Cold! How could you just leave me like that?” 

Adora gives an eyeroll at her dramatics, but she can’t help the smile as she turns back to the railing. “I’m trying to get the room in a better shape before Glimmer wakes up later. She hid it last night, but I know Horde Prime destroying her mom’s stuff really hurt.”

“Yeah,” Catra mutters, picking up the ruined bedspread and gently feeling the silk under her palms. “It probably would’ve been the first thing he attacked, after the throne room. Get them where it hurts, and all that.”

She can’t help but recall being trapped under Prime’s control, feeling nothing but unrelenting emptiness, Prime’s voice echoing in her mind, directing her limbs, drowning her thoughts. From that very first time she sat down at his table, gazing down at delicacies stolen from long dead civilizations, the ghosts of entire worlds carelessly shown off as mere props, she recognized the display of power for what it was. That Prime was barely human, above all creatures simply by the sheer fact that he felt  _ nothing _ about snuffing out life, that to him empathy was so foreign a concept as to be laughable, and that people were just tools to be used and discarded in the pursuit of more power. 

A hand touches her shoulder. “You okay?” Adora asks quietly. 

Catra realizes she’d been clutching the bedspread so tightly that the delicate silk had torn apart under her grip, and moves to drop it as if burned. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Catra says automatically. Adora frowns. 

“It’s just a little fresh,” Catra admits, hand instinctively flitting to the back of her neck. “I’ll be okay.”

Adora grabs her hand and gently moves it away, holding it close. Catra closes her eyes, leaning forward until she feels lips meet hers in a soft kiss. Warmth and comfort pours down her spine, loosening her shoulders and freeing the tension in her back. It’s short and chaste, but they lean against each other, after, forehead to forehead, smiling like a pair of goons. 

“I hope this never gets old,” Adora whispers, and Catra’s ears flick in pleasure at the warmth in her voice. 

“Sap,” Catra returns, eyes still shut in contentment. “Of course it’ll never get old. We’d be all gross and wrinkly and I’d still be able to make you all disgustingly smiley. It’s in your genes, babe.”   


Adora scoffs, gently headbutting Catra in retaliation, and Catra opens her eyes to grin unrepentantly. This close, she can see the blue-grey of Adora’s eyes, so different to the brilliant azure of She-Ra’s, but a thousand times more precious to Catra. She can also see the exhaustion reflected in them, evident in the darkened rings under her eyes.

The playfulness shifts rapidly to concern. “Have you been sleeping?” Catra asks, thumbing gently at the shadows above Adora’s cheekbones. 

Adora pulls away, sheepish. "Yes?"  


Catra frowns at the obvious lie. Adora sighs, taking a step back towards the ruined balcony and averting her eyes. “I just woke up early to work on this. It’s important to Glimmer.”

“You didn’t sleep last night, either.” Catra points out, careful to keep any accusation out of her tone. She’s more familiar with Adora’s habits than most, but this was supposed to be the beginning of an era of  _ peace _ , and she doesn’t quite get why Adora’s still acting with the urgency of a stressed out Force Captain. It’s not like the world was ending tomorrow. 

“I don’t need much sleep as She-Ra,” Adora lies again. She fiddles with the edges of her red jacket, frowning at her hands even as she does so. “It’s fine, I’ll just get this done and we can go do stuff later.”

“Adora.” Catra can’t help the frustration creeping in. She’s trying to be patient,  _ she is _ , and the last thing she wants is to put Adora on the defensive. She just, she just doesn’t understand  _ why _ Adora is being so stubborn with this. Wasn't the whole point of taking down the Horde and killing Prime to get a chance to relax for once? To not have to constantly be on the move, to do more than just survive?

“This can’t wait, Catra,” Adora says dismissively. She  _ still _ isn’t looking at her, and somehow that little detail pisses her off more than everything she’s said and done so far. “I’m sorry I can't hang out with you all the time-”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” snarls Catra, and Adora recoils at the ferocity. 

Oh, how quickly they fall back to old habits.

Catra takes a step forward, reaching a hand out in apology, and Adora  _ flinches _ . It sends a shock through Catra, her nerves jolting like she’d just been dumped in ice cold water; body breathless and seizing up. Her world zeroes in on Adora’s face, watching the regret flashing through blue eyes; Catra focuses on tracing the furrow on Adora’s brow to keep herself from shattering. 

Adora steps forward, a calloused hand reaching out hesitantly as if to soothe, and this time it’s Catra who shies away. She feels strangely detached from her own skin; can see but not feel the minute trembles in her hand, the way all her fur stands on end. Adora looks devastated, but for once Catra can’t bring herself to react to it. She’s teetering on the edge of something, a yawning abyss of darkness spiraling down and down and down in her mind, and she knows this time if she stays, if she allows herself to fall, Adora might not be able to catch her. 

Catra refuses to take them both down again.

So she leaves instead. 

\---

It’s just her luck that she runs into Glimmer on her way - somewhere.

“Hey Cat- whoa, what gives?”

Catra tries to smooth her snarl into something resembling neutrality, and ends up with more of a grimace. It’s an improvement, at the very least, and at this point she’ll take what victories she can get. 

“It’s nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about, Sparkles. Just needed some air.”

Glimmer snorts disbelievingly. “Yeah, looks like it. Hey, have you seen Adora? I’ve got something I need to show her.”

Catra barks out a laugh. “Yeah, I’ve seen her alright. She’s-” 

Catra cuts herself off before she can say more. She’s already fucked it up once with Adora, she can’t do the same with Glimmer, especially since this is her  _ mom _ they’re talking about, her mom that she  _ killed _ . Horde Prime may have destroyed the castle structure, but his damage can be rebuilt over. Her’s can’t.

“Adora’s a little occupied right now,” Catra eventually gets out. “She wanted to do something nice for you, I’m not supposed to tell you what it is.”

Glimmer sighs in fond exasperation. Catra knows that sound; has made it countless times herself, but she pretends like it doesn’t hurt to hear it from Glimmer. It’s not important right now.

“She’s up fixing my mom’s room, isn’t she.”

“Yeah." Catra hesitates. "She hasn’t slept in a while, I’m-" she swallows, “worried.”

Glimmer softens, and Catra fights the instinct to bristle, to bare her teeth and tear into her until there’s no pity left to give. She tells herself Glimmer isn't trying to hurt, that she doesn't mean anything by it, that she should stop reading everything as a personal attack. It’s a losing battle.

“She’s just like that, give her time.”

“I  _ know _ she’s like that, you don’t have to tell  _ me _ , Sparkles!” Catra spits, pacing the length of the hallway furiously. “I’m her - her oldest friend, for fuck's sake, I know her better than anyone! I thought that would be enough, that  _ I _ would be enough, but clearly-” 

That old bitterness rises like a tide, faster than Catra can even register, and before she knows it her claws are out and raking deeply into the soft plaster of the castle wall. The tear echoes through the stupidly wide hallway, with its stupidly ornate arches and stupidly elegant murals, and Catra feels a sickening pit of vindictive benediction in the way the bones in her hands vibrate up to her skull, the way the resistance in the plaster hurts her nails. 

Sparkles is saying something, but Catra can’t hear it. The shame rises just as quickly as the rage had, dousing her anger with cold humiliation. Catra doesn’t think twice.

She flees once again.

\---

The Fright Zone, with all its haphazard architecture and idiosyncratic machinery, was rife with all sorts of hidden places: older nooks and corridors carelessly plastered over with new structures; creating hidden dysfunctional rooms, pipelines forming perfect handholds to reach inaccessible faux-balconies, air vents the perfect size for a small lithe creature to curl up and sulk in. 

Bright Moon has none of these things. The marble walls are too slippery to climb without causing lasting damage, the carefully planned rooms and elegant architecture leaving no room for darkness or secrecy. Of course, Catra would bet her life that the castle contained many hidden rooms only accessible by freaky princess magic, but that hardly helps her in this instance.  


Still, she climbs as high as she can, Melog cloaking her from the guards and servants as she ascends balconies, sometimes sinking her claws into sheer cliff faces to boost herself higher up the structure. Eventually she ends up on one of the spires near the top of the castle, one with seemingly no function but to elevate the facade of Bright Moon. Melog uncloaks her and wraps around her legs as she leans back against the cold stone, making sounds of distress.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll apologize later,” Catra mumbles, tucking her knees in and resting her chin on her crossed arms. This high up, she can see across the bridge to the Whispering Woods, glowing faintly even during the day, and, if she squints up, the faint outline of Horde Prime’s flagship. Melog curls beside her, acquiescing to her unspoken request to let her stew in silence for now. 

The wind howls in her ears, and her short hair whips around her in the gale, muffling all other sounds. Her thoughts whirl with just as much ferocity, but at least up here she has some distance from the problems that constantly hound her. It gives her perspective, lets her breathe a little easier. Catra thinks maybe this was what Perfuma meant when she suggested mindful meditation, although maybe doing it hundreds of feet off the ground, with the small but persistent risk of falling to her death present, wasn’t _quite_ what she had in mind. 

“Will it always be like this?” Catra asks, not expecting an answer. “I thought I’d started to change. Guess I was wrong.”

Melog rumbles.  _ You **have** changed. You wouldn’t have asked yourself any of this otherwise. _

Catra frowns. Melog pushes their face up against her own, insistent. 

_ Change doesn’t happen all at once. You need to give yourself time as well. _

Catra sighs, unfurling a hand to rub against Melog’s silky fur. “Time, huh?”

Up here, she can almost appreciate its simplicity. Behind her: cold rock, before her: a great planet, recently restored, looms. 

“I guess I can do that.”

\---

Compared to the deafening white noise of the spire top, the corridors of the castle are as silent as a grave. The spacious, winding hallways remind her vaguely of Horde Prime’s ship, but there are enough differences to keep her from being too uncomfortable. Given what she’s about to do though, Catra’s still pretty uneasy. 

The cake she rustled up from the pantry of Bright Moon’s many kitchens shakes in her palm, and she takes a moment to steady herself before knocking on Glimmer’s door.

Glimmer pokes her head out. 

“Hey,” Catra mutters, weakly holding up the jostled and now rather sad-looking piece of cake. “Can I come in?”

Glimmer wordlessly steps aside, and Catra slinks in, tail lashing nervously behind her.

The door closes behind her with dreadful finality. For a short, awkward moment, Catra just stands there, in the middle of the room, floundering for words that refuse to come. She honestly didn’t think she’d even come this far, and now her lack of planning was making her look like an idiot.

Finally Glimmer strides over to a cabinet, pulling out two forks and sitting on the floor below her floating bed, patting the space beside her expectantly. "Sit."

Catra sits.

The fork sits numb in her hand as she watches Glimmer fiddle with a piece of cake. The two words sit heavily in her chest, burning up her lungs and filling her mouth with sour ash. A part of her, the familiar, cowardly, childish part of her, screams that she’s already done enough. That she should just leave right now and spare herself further grief. It would be so easy.

But she’s ostensibly changed, according to various sources, and besides: she’s sick of letting that voice inside dictate her actions. She’s survived far worse than an apology. 

“I’m sorry,” Catra mumbles, forcing herself to stop fidgeting with the fork. It comes out a lot weaker than she’d have liked, but the words are out there. It’s a step.

“It’s just some dumb wall,” Glimmer says, easy. A glance tells Catra that she really isn’t angry, isn’t just saying it out of some twisted sense of pity. “Nothing we can’t just plaster over.”

“Is this what you’re doing?” Catra says, unwilling to let go and hating herself for it. “Plastering it over?”

A pause. 

Catra jumps when she feels a hand on her shoulder, barely managing to choke back the high-pitched yelp of surprise from the unexpected touch. Thankfully, Glimmer makes no comment about her twitchiness, or the fur Catra just  _ knows _ is puffed up behind her, and simply waits for Catra to settle. It’s another mercy Catra doesn’t quite know how to deal with, so she resolves to keep silent and let Glimmer take this one.

“It never gets any easier, making apologies,” Glimmer says quietly, and it’s an admission that catches Catra off guard. Something that they’ve never explicitly acknowledged, despite all that time spent together in Horde Prime’s cage, and all the time after that. 

Barely a month ago, Catra would have seen this moment of vulnerability as a weakness and seized this opportunity to attack, wouldn’t have even hesitated to go for the jugular.  _ You would know, wouldn’t you, princess? _ She can hear echoes of herself even now, condescending and cocksure, feel the remnants of dark pleasure mixed in with genuine hate and grief. It makes her sick, that the instinct to hurt is still so close to the surface. 

“It doesn’t,” Catra agrees, swallowing back the guilt and anger. 

“I wasn’t trying to dismiss your apology,” Glimmer continues quietly. “I just - I know you’re sorry. I forgive you.”

The rush of intense -  _ something _ \- at those words almost knocks Catra over.  _ I forgive you _ . Three small words. This isn’t the first time she’s heard someone she irrevocably wronged say it to her, but it’s no less startling. 

“I- thank you,” Catra eventually manages. “That… means a lot.”

Glimmer hums. She shifts so they sit back to back, and the familiarity of it releases some of the tension. They stay in comfortable silence for some time. 

“You and Adora really love each other,” Glimmer says after a while. 

“Yeah.” It doesn’t feel like an admission of victory. “Sometimes I feel like that’s the problem.”

Catra feels Glimmer shake her head. “I don’t believe that. Or- at least, I think it can be the solution, too. If you let it.”

Catra thinks about all the times they’ve fought, from that day in Thaymor to their final argument before the failsafe, all the times Adora left and all the times Catra had turned away. Through it all, underneath the hurt and fury and pain, the love was always there, pulsing beneath the surface, unacknowledged yet persistent, persistent yet powerful. She thinks of Shadow Weaver, of the poison that ran deep into their childhoods, and remembers how, even now, her memory controls so much of their actions. A lifetime of trauma, Catra is starting to learn, does not simply wash away. Catra has a lot to make up for, but she’s willing to  _ get better _ , and maybe that’s the most she can hope for. Maybe  _ trying _ to be good is all there is to  _ be _ good. 

“You know what, princess,” Catra stands, and puts out a hand for Glimmer. “You’re a lot wiser than you look.”

“Hey!” Glimmer protests, but she takes Catra’s hand nonetheless. “You’re as much of a brat as  _ you _ look, Horde Scum. I can’t believe you tried to apologize by giving me cake stolen from my own castle, you bastard."  


Catra laughs, darting forward to ruffle Glimmer’s hair and bounding away from shouts of outrage, and for the first time she makes herself a promise. 

\---

She finds Adora in the gardens.

“Catra, hey,” Adora grips her hand tightly and then abruptly lets go, like she isn’t sure she’s allowed to do it anymore. Catra bites her lip, hesitantly reaching back to grasp Adora, waiting for her to jerk back, to flinch, anything to signal that she’s uncomfortable with Catra’s touch. Nothing.

Adora relaxes as Catra takes her hand, looking down at their joined hands in something like wonder, mixed with intense relief. Catra can relate. 

“I’m sorry,” they both say in unison, and Catra’s brows raise to her hairline. 

“Wait,” Catra says, “What? What do  _ you _ have to apologize for?”

Adora takes a deep breath, and Catra watches her prepare herself for a clearly rehearsed speech. It’s the same kind of endearing yet exasperating move Catra never allowed herself to miss during her time in the Horde.

“I wanted to say- it wasn’t about you,” Adora starts. “I told you I’d stay and I will, it’s just that- people need me, and- you’ll always be the most important person, to me, but sometimes I’m- I’m just sorry, for leaving you all the time,” she finishes, shoulders slumping in shame. Her face is flushed, and Catra’s heart shudders in her chest when she catches the telltale gleam of tears in Adora’s lowered eyes. “I didn’t mean to make you angry.”

And Catra- 

God, Adora-

Adora, who always puts others first, Adora who never sleeps, Adora, who’s idea of success is constantly redefined to be  _ just _ beyond her grasp, Adora, who has been offered comfort after comfort and refused them all because of the  _ guilt _ , always present, the guilt that has been so carefully cultivated since the very moment Shadow Weaver laid her filthy claws on Adora’s young skull. Adora, who looks at her now with such sadness, with such  _ understanding _ , it makes Catra want to break something. 

They’re the same, she realises. They’ve always been the same. 

“Adora,” and she can’t stop the way her voice breaks around the name, echoing the way her heart seems to rind itself into two parts, one half hers, the other half only ever belonging to Adora. “Adora, I- I can’t accept your apology.”

Adora lets out a sob, and Catra rushes to her side, furious with herself and Shadow Weaver and the rest of the world for making her best friend look so utterly miserable. The words trip out of her mouth, insistent: “You never had to apologize in the first place! Adora, goddammit, you’re allowed to be selfish, okay? You can’t just worry about me, about  _ my _ feelings or  _ my _ comfort, and use that as an excuse to throw your own away! I won’t be the next sword you fall on.  _ I refuse _ !” 

Adora turns towards Catra, and her face is such a mix of concern and shame and fear that even Catra has trouble reading it. A hand cups her face, and, fuck, Catra doesn’t even remember when she started crying.  _ It’s not fair, _ she wants to scream,  _ don’t make this about me. _ The awful thing is that she can  _ feel _ herself leaning into the touch, helpless against the warm pressure of Adora’s concern. She’s too weak a creature to deny Adora’s reassurance. Not after a lifetime of rebuffing her love. 

Catra closes her eyes, suddenly exhausted. Arms automatically wrap around her, and she gives in to the embrace, her whole body sagging heavily into Adora’s familiar scent. 

“I’m sorry,” Adora whispers into her hair. “I know I’m not the best at taking care of myself.”

Catra lets out a tired huff and nuzzles further into her neck. 

“Obviously, dumbass,” her voice muffled, “but that’s what I’m here for. If you’ll just let me.”

She feels a hand stroke across the back of her head, caressing down her back and holding her tight. A rumble starts and builds in her chest, and Catra can’t even bring herself to feel annoyed at the amusement in Adora’s reply.

“Okay, Catra.”

They love each other. That has never been the problem - the living, the learning, that’s what it all comes down to, in the end. 

Catra is determined to get it right. 

\---

Catra wakes up slowly, her consciousness rising to the surface gently as if from a shallow pool. The air is still, darkness blanketing the edges of the room where even Catra's sharp night vision cannot penetrate. 

Beside her, Adora shifts, rocking the bed slightly. Catra keeps her eyes closed and breathing even, but can’t help the way her heart thumps harder in her chest. She waits for Adora to leave, for the warmth around her to disappear into the night once again, waits for the inevitable. 

The bed shifts once more, and Catra’s eyes squeeze tight, her ears flattening against her skull when the weight around her rises. She can’t help the wave of jagged sadness that overcomes her, as sharp as the cold that rushes in between the spaces where their bodies once met. Catra had expected this.

But.

The warmth comes back. Catra tenses as she feels an arm encircle her waist, feels the quiet whisper of clothing against clothing as the weight settles firmly against the entire length of her back. The small hairs at the back of her neck prickle as a calm breath brushes across them, replaced by lips that press softly against the base of her neck. 

“Go to sleep,” whispers Adora, as she entwines their limbs together, twists the sheets so that their bodies are all but bound together. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

Catra breathes in, lets Adora flood every one of her sharp senses, feels her whole body relax into the girl behind her, the atoms between them scattering under Adora’s hold. The ageless worry housed in deep within her chest flees, unable to retain any hold, not here, not now. 

“You promise?”

Adora presses a final kiss to her shoulder. There is nowhere else they’d rather be.

“I promise.”


End file.
